


Your Memory Is A Monster

by phoapostrophes



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Dementia, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-25
Updated: 2015-12-25
Packaged: 2018-05-09 07:35:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5531198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phoapostrophes/pseuds/phoapostrophes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles barges into the room.</p>
<p>"What the hell, Derek?" He shouts. His voice has reached new levels of panicked. "What's wrong with him? What's happened?"</p>
<p>"It's what the doctor said, Stiles," Derek says as gently as he can.</p>
<p>"I thought you said he'd be okay? He's a werewolf. He's not supposed to be susceptible to diseases! He's not--"</p>
<p>Stiles collapses into himself, and Derek very barely manages to catch him before they both crash onto the ground.</p>
<p>"I'm sorry, Stiles," Derek whispers.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>(In which Scott gets very sick and I don't do enough research.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Your Memory Is A Monster

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Castleinthegale](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Castleinthegale/gifts).



> Hello! So, I got thinking about Alzheimer's fics. And then the ever great castleinthegale (how the hell do you link people on these things idek) went, "What about Scott" and it kind of escalated from there.
> 
> I didn't do nearly as much research into Alzheimer's as I would like to do (see: no research done, going in blind, it's midnight and no longer Christmas, I am so so so sorry) but here it is. My writing is a lot like a shotgun wedding: not very well thought-out and very quickly (and quite badly) done.

“Your memory is a monster; you forget—it doesn't. It simply files things away. It keeps things for you, or hides things from you—and summons them to your recall with will of its own. You think you have a memory; but it has you!”

 

― John Irving, A Prayer for Owen Meany

*

It starts out simple. Stiles thinks he should've seen it earlier, but really, there was no way he could have.

Because that's exactly how Scott is. It doesn't come to him as a surprise that Scott would forget about a meeting or two. Nothing surprising about anything. Stiles isn't particularly worried. (Okay, he might have freaked out a little because they're constantly being targeted by things that go bump at night and a missing pack member has better chances if they're found missing earlier rather than later.) After finding out from Melissa that Scott had just gone home immediately after school, Stiles relaxes a bit.

Not entirely, but enough. There's something not right, but he can't place it.

*

Scott gets really forgetful. He forgets about pack meetings and prior engagements. He leaves homework at home and sometimes shows up on Stiles' doorstep looking confused and slightly sheepish about having lost his keys (they usually end up being in the little compartment in his bag that he always puts them in, which confuses Stiles because why doesn't Scott know that when he's the one who puts them there by habit). The tipping point is when Scott takes more than a moment to actually recognize Stiles.

"Dude, what's wrong?" Stiles asks.

"Nothing?" Scott says, more of a question than a definitive statement.

"There's something wrong. You've been lost and listless lately, and you haven't really been... you."

Scott pauses.

"Scott?" Stiles prompts. Scott snaps back to him.

"Hey, Stiles! Didn't notice you there. When did you get here?" Scott says, smiling brightly.

Stiles walks out, confused and worried as hell.

*

It's a Monday when Stiles finds a confused looking Scott at his doorstep.

"Hey," Stiles says.

"Hey, so um. I can't find my, um, what are they called? The things you use to open doors and shit..." Scott stumbles over his words, and although they're all easy words, he stumbles in a way usually only people highly inebriated can achieve.

"Your keys?" Stiles offers.

"Oh!" Scott perks up. "Yeah, those!"

"They're in that little pocket on your backpack, dude, where you always put them," Stiles says.

"Right. Okay. Thanks!" Scott replies cheerily before going. Up the street that leads him away from his house.

"Hey, you house is the other way!" Stiles says.

"Oh, right," Scott throws over his shoulder before reorienting himself.

Stiles stands at the door till he can't see Scott anymore.

*

The monster of the week is a witch that's been going around hexing people. Small, harmless things that eventually amount to a huge supernatural headache.

"We've determined that the witch thinks she's doing good," Stiles says to the pack when they meet to discuss what to do.

"Doing good?" Scott asks.

"Yeah. She's punishing the people for petty little actions," Lydia explains.

"Petty little actions," Scott murmurs to himself.

"We better pay her a visit, then," Derek says.

"Pay who a visit?" Scott asks.

"Um, the witch?" Derek says.

"There's a witch?" Scott looks even more confused.

"Have you been listening at all, McCall?" Derek asks, and Stiles can tell he's getting angry. He steps in and drags Scott out before either one can start a fight.

"Dude," Stiles hisses. "What the hell are you doing?"

"I... I've been listening," Scott says very slowly. "I know I've been listening. But... I can't remember... I can't remember what I've been listening to?"

And then shit hits the fan.

*

Stiles should've known from the get-go. He should've picked up that something was wrong the first time Scott asked him about his keys. He should've known the moment he saw Scott's mismatched clothing and buttons.

Instead, it takes Stiles at least a month before he begins to pester Melissa about what's wrong with Scott. It takes a whole day to get her to promise to look into it.

It's not what Stiles expected, though. Three words change everything.

"Early onset dementia," Melissa says, as gently as she can.

Stiles doesn't react, just sits in shock.

*

Stiles barges into the room.

"What the hell, Derek?" He shouts. His voice has reached new levels of panicked. "What's wrong with him? What's happened?"

"It's what the doctor said, Stiles," Derek says as gently as he can.

"I thought you said he'd be okay? He's a werewolf. He's not supposed to be susceptible to diseases! He's not--"

Stiles collapses into himself, and Derek very barely manages to catch him before they both crash onto the ground.

"I'm sorry, Stiles," Derek whispers.

*

It's stupid, really. They manage to survive years and years of chasing monsters and big bads, and what gets Scott is his own brain. Because of course they'll live to finally be legal to drink and do all kinds of weird shit and Scott won't be able to remember half of it.

Stiles Googles the shit out of everything, and all he gets is that there is no cure. There is no cure and they were all going to die sooner or later, but his best friend, Scott McCall, was going to die sooner rather than later.

And it hurts. It hurts Stiles so freaking much, because life has thrown him lots and lots of lemons and then there is this. It's like something in him has died. He doesn't know what to do, except see Scott as much as he can, and hope against hope that it's all a bad dream.

It isn't a bad dream.

*

Seeing Scott is a lot like seeing his mother towards the end and it hurts like a bitch, but Stiles doesn't stop. Doesn't even think to stop going to see Scott.

"Hey, so what do you remember today, Scotty?"

"Not much. What happened to your arm?" Scott asks.

"Invading pack thought they could come into Beacon Hills and do shit. The supernatural just doesn't wait for us to get our shit together, you know?" Stiles says.

"Wait, what? Supernatural? Invading pack? Dude, are you okay?" Scott asks. He looks at Stiles with eyes void of recognition.

"Scott, do you remember about werewolves?" Stiles asks.

"What are you on, man. There are no wolves in California," Scott says.

'You're a werewolf."

"Yeah right, haha."

Stiles laughs along, kind of.

*

"Hey, Scott! How're you doing, man?"

"I'm sorry... do I know you?"

**Author's Note:**

> If you wanna read more of my crap, my writing blog is pmwriteng.tumblr.com. Drop me a thing! :)


End file.
